Mirdan
by Mirasaui
Summary: An injured and abused Elf seeks shelter in Lothlorien. Characters: Rumil, Mirdan, Haldir, Orophin. Warning: M-M pairings. This story has been discontinued.
1. Discovery

**Title:** Mírdan  
**Type:** Slash (FPS)  
**Author:** Mirasaui mirasaui(at)aol(dot)com  
**Pairing:** Rúmil/Mírdan (OMC)  
**Disclaimer:** The characters are Tolkien's creations, not mine. This is all just for fun.  
**Beta:** None  
**Archive:** Any, but please ask.  
**Timeline:** A few hundred years into the Third Age  
**Warning:** Violence

**Summary:** An injured and abused elf seeks shelter in Lothlórien.

**Mírdan**

**Chapter One: Discovery**

The late evening rays of the sun filtered softly though the leaves overhead, tracing mottled patterns on the moss covered ground. All was well and quiet in the Golden Woods. Rúmil put aside the arrow he was fletching, suppressed a yawn then stretched his tired muscles. Less than an hour remained of his shift on patrol, and all he could think about was the soft mattress of his bed at home.

"Not much longer, mellonen (my friend)," Fael said with a grin. "Mayhap you will get more sleep tonight?"

Rúmil sighed. He almost wished a few orcs would chance by, just to relieve the boredom. How ever was he going to stay awake these last few moments of duty?

Usually the time spent in the talan of the great mallorn tree was a comfort to him. He had been a member of the Lórien guard for over 450 years. Fael and Rŷn, the two elves that shared his shift, were almost as close to him as his brothers, Orophin and Haldir. In fact, all the members of his unit were like family. Haldir, his middle brother, was marchwarden of the Lórien guard. It was to his unit that Rúmil, Orophin, Rŷn and Fael were assigned. But it was not nepotism that placed Rúmil and Orophin in Haldir's group; it was their dedication to duty and proven ability.

Haldir kept his guardians at their best through daily training and exercise. To encourage competition and hone skills, there were semi-annual tournaments held which allowed both individual and unit competition. Under Haldir's command, his unit had won the most ribbons for the past 150 years. They were the elite of the elite, for the reputation of the entire Lórien guard was par excellent.

But Rúmil was not his usual self today. Haldir had lectured him this morning about not receiving proper rest. It did not matter that Haldir stayed up late, because as his brother rightly pointed out, Haldir was not due on morning patrol. And, as if the lecture was not enough, Haldir had tagged one extra hour of daily training on the whole unit as punishment for Rúmil's infraction.

Even though he found himself in trouble, it was worth it. His brothers meant the world to him; surely Haldir knew that? Orophin had been sent to Imladris two years ago on a courier mission. The galadhrim had been attacked on the trail by a large group of orcs. Orophin and the other guards had managed to overcome and kill the beasts, but Orophin had taken a poisoned arrow in his shoulder. Before they reached Imladris, the poison had spread and Orophin was deathly ill. Lord Elrond, one of the best healers of Middle-earth, administered an antidote, but it had been touch and go.

Due to the toxicity of the poison, Orophin's recovery period had been lengthy. When he was finally able to leave his bed, he was too weak to travel or return to duty. Elrond had encouraged him to take short walks up and down the hall of the healing house to build up his strength. But Orophin, never one to be idle, had not been able to deal with his weakness or the boredom of inactivity. Normally reserved and quiet, Orophin turned into a demon. His temper drove many of Elrond's assistants to tears, and it reached the point where none wished to go near him. The last straw was the day he yelled at Lord Glorfindel.

For Glorfindel was an elf of legend. He awakened under the stars at Cuiviénen and was a warrior hero of the First and Second Age. He was head of the House of the Golden Flower in ill-fated Gondolin and fell to his death fighting a Balrog during the destruction of that city, sacrificing himself for his people. And because of that great sacrifice, the Valar gave him new life and returned him to Middle-earth.

He was ancient, one of the most respected and renowned Elven warriors on Arda, the wisdom of ages evident in the depth of his dark blue eyes. Tall and regal, with golden hair flowing past his waist, a golden glow to his skin, he was ethereal in his beauty, dynamic, and powerful. His temper, when provoked, was fierce as the fires of Mount Doom. No one yelled at Lord Glorfindel and got away with it, and neither did Orophin.

The full fury of Glorfindel's wrath was heard and felt throughout the corners of Imladris, and afterward, Orophin's temperament underwent a complete turnaround. But it did not end there. Lord Glorfindel sent a letter to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, and as a result, Orophin was transferred to Imladris as a guard under Glorfindel for a period of one year. During the course of that year, Orophin and the great warrior became friends. Orophin blossomed under his tutelage, and gained a new sense of self-worth. But as the year came to a close, he was glad to return to the Golden Woods. He had missed the golden mellryn, his Lord and his Lady, but most of all, he missed his brothers, missed their closeness. A year was too long to be separated from those dearest to his heart.

Of course they had exchanged letters, and as Haldir traditionally provided escort for Lord Celeborn, he and Orophin had been able to visit with each other the few times the Lord of Lothlórien met with the Lord of Imladris for council. But such events were rare, and the longest had only been for the duration of one week. Rúmil had not been on roster for escort duty either time and could only wait for Halidir's return to hear a detailed report of Orophin's well being. But yesterday, all had changed, for that was the day Orophin came home.

Rúmil knew he should have retired early last night, but had been so glad to see his elder brother that he went against his better judgement. Haldir did tell him once that it was getting late, but that was the only time, for Haldir never repeated himself. So Rúmil's tiredness was his own fault. He had broken a patrol rule but thought Haldir would understand his reason. Last night was special; it was not like he did this all the time. Still, Rúmil felt guilty.

Elbereth, he was sleepy! Picking up the arrow he had been working on, he wished again for a distraction to take his mind off the time. As if in answer to his thought, his keen ears picked out an alien sound amidst the normal forest activity. Looking over at his companions, he realized the other two elves heard it also, for each had nocked their bow and were crouched, muscles tensed, waiting to see who or what invaded the solitude of the woods.

Instantly awake and alert, Rúmil scanned the ground below the talan then swept his eyes further up the path. A figure moved out of the shadows. The three elves held their breath, waiting for the intruder to come close enough for their eyes to see more detail. A shaft of waning sunlight illuminated a tangled mass of light brown hair atop a slim body clothed in tattered leggings and a torn grey cloak. The soft leather boots of the stranger made no sound, but his steps were hesitant and unsteady. Before Rúmil could let out the breath he had been holding, the stranger collapsed onto the forest floor.

Signalling to Fael and Rŷn to cover him, Rúmil cautiously dropped from the talan and hid against the trunk of the great mallorn. Creeping from shadow to shadow, he moved until he was directly across from the prone figure. Stepping out from his cover, bow pointed at the stranger's back, Rúmil spoke, his voice ringing through the air.

"Who dares invade these woods? Speak stranger, but do not make a move or your life will be forfeit."

No sound came from the figure on the ground except that of ragged breath going in and out. Rúmil moved closer, and with the toe of one boot, pushed against the shoulder hidden under the grey cloak, turning the stranger over. Gold-flecked blue eyes widened at the sight of the pale face below him. He gently bent over to brush back a tangled strand of brown hair. "It is an elf," he cried out to his companions, "and he is grievously injured."

Fael and Rŷn hurriedly climbed down from the talan as Rúmil determined the extent of the elf's injury. He applied what immediate aid he could then gathered the elf into his arms.

"Rŷn, go with Rúmil, I will wait for your relief," said Fael as he saw firsthand the battered body lying limp in Rúmil's arms.

"Hurry, Rŷn, he is hurt badly," Rúmil cried as he started running quickly down the path that led toward the place where the horses were hidden.

"I will go on ahead and have a healer meet you," Rŷn replied catching up with, then moving ahead of Rúmil.

Rúmil could only nod as he ran, thinking of the frightfully pale face pressed against his chest. It was not a face he knew. Bruises and scratches covered the fair skin, and the elf's tunic was soaked with blood. His quick search of the body had found more of the same, with a large gash on the left side of the chest that was most likely the cause of the heavy bleeding. Rúmil had bandaged the wound as best he could, but there was no way of telling how much blood the elf had lost, or if there were internal injuries.

Willing his feet to move faster, Rúmil prayed the elf would not die in his arms. His muscles burned as he ran up a steep incline. Clearing the top, his forward momentum almost caused him to stumble when he started down the other side. Never had the horses seemed so far away. His breath was coming in gasps, each intake searing the back of his throat and it seemed as if he could not pull enough air into his lungs. The body in his arms jarred against his chest with each step he made, and he could palpably feel the other's pain. "Almost there," he thought, "one last hill and then level ground." The hill felt like a mountain and once again he nearly stumbled and fell. Pausing at the top to catch his breath, he heard a small whimper of pain escape the lips of the elf in his arms. Gathering his strength, he lowered his head and ran like the wind.

After what seemed like ages, he reached the small glade where the horses grazed. Rŷn's gelding was gone, and Rúmil's mare nickered softly at his approach. With a whispered command, the horse knelt so Rúmil could mount more easily with his burden. Once his mare had risen, Rúmil whispered another command and they were off, heading towards the healing house of Caras Galadhon, the city of the Elves. But progress was not as fast as Rúmil could hope, for he had to adjust his mare's gait for the injured rider.

Rúmil, with the elf barely breathing in his arms, rode through the night, trusting the instinct of his mount to find the way in the dark without harm. Never had the journey to his fair city seemed to take so long, and Rúmil's worry for his charge increased with each passing minute. The next day, he had to stop once to refill the water pouch and check the elf's bandages, but that was the only interruption to the journey that he dared.

As the angry red rays of the evening sun began to sink below the horizon, Rumil let out a sigh of relief, for the city gate was in sight. Rŷn and two healers waited there with a stretcher. After dismounting and laying the injured elf gently on the litters folded blankets, Rúmil backed away and caught his breath. "Please let the elf live," he prayed to the Valar. "Do not let my efforts have been in vain."

A guardian led the mare back to the stables while Rúmil sprinted to catch up with Rŷn. Together they followed the healers as they bore the wounded elf into a small building, one of the few in the city that was built on ground level.

"Do you know who he is?" Rŷn asked as they passed through the entrance of the healing house.

"No," Rúmil replied. ཁHis face is not familiar, but between the swelling and the bruising, I daresay it could be someone I know. Rŷn, his injuries cover not only his face, but his chest and back. Whoever he is, he has been sorely abused!"

TBC


	2. The Healers

**Mírdan**

**Chapter Two: The Healers**

Meril removed the bandage that Rúmil had applied to the elf's side. Pressing a clean white cloth to the wound underneath, she applied firm pressure to try and staunch the blood flow. "I need help," she said, turning to the other healer who was looking over her shoulder. "Hold the cloth; this bleeding must be stopped now."

Placing both hands beside those of the other woman, Meril gently touched the bruised skin of the injured elf. Closing her eyes she merged her mind with his. Pain immediately wracked her body and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. Slowly, she moved past partial thoughts and images not her own. Visualizing the structure of the brain, she searched until she found the main vessel running through it. She followed this cord, down the neck, through the elf's heart, until she reached that which was leaking his life's fluid. Silently, she wove together the broken walls of the vein till the blood flowed along its normal path. Then she set to mending the tears in the tissue and skin surrounding the wound. There were fractures along the ribs, and she willed energy from her body to wrap around those bones. Satisfied that new growth had begun, she quickly scanned for more serious injury. Once she had repaired the worst of the bodily damage, she set about a different task.

Travelling back up the great vessel, she again entered the elf's brain, heightening her senses to a new level. On this plane appeared a swirling mass of colourful threads, mostly soft blues and greens, interspersed here and there with clingy strands of black and red. She followed one of the red and began an intricate manoeuvre. Lightly pulling on the delicate strand, she unwound it from around those of cooler colour, balling it into her mind and compressing it into a compact bundle. Taking one of the black threads, she began to wrap it around the ball she had made, until black completely covered red, walling away pain and painful memories, as one would wrap a ball of yarn. She knew this to be a temporary fix only, but any respite she could give would do much to mend the broken body. The elf desperately needed a few days of peaceful, healing sleep. Mind healing took much energy, and as her strength began to wane, she withdrew her connection.

It took some time before Meril's eyes focused. She rubbed them and smiled wearily at her apprentice.

"How fares our patient?" she asked.

"His breathing is better and there is colour in his cheeks." Her partner replied.

"Good," said Meril. "Now that he is more stable, we should clean the rest of his wounds."

In companionable silence, both women dipped clean white cotton cloth into bowls of warm water that were set on a tray beside them and began to cleanse the dried blood that covered almost every surface of the elf's body.

"There are old scars and bruises here," Meril said, "and some wounds that were healed have been freshly opened. This elf has been beaten continuously for a long period of time. The gash is most recent, but at least two days old. From whence he came, I know not, but I do wonder that he made it here at all."

Meril sighed. "Sit with him while I speak with Rúmil and Rŷn. I am sure they wonder how he fares. Afterward, I will fetch us a snack from the kitchen."

Her assistant nodded, "I will keep watch on our patient. After we eat, you should rest. You may relieve me when you have gained back your strength." She took a seat in a chair by the side of the bed, her eyes never leaving the pitiful shape under the blankets. Like Rúmil, she prayed to the Valar that the elf would recover.

Meril wiped her hands on her apron and gently closed the door to the healing room. Rúmil and Rŷn had been sitting on a bench outside the door, and both stood when she entered the hallway.

"Will he live?" Rúmil asked the question foremost in everyone's mind.

"I have done what I could for his physical injuries," Meril replied, "As to the other; it shall depend on how much will he has to live. He has been through a lot, I am afraid."

"May we see him?" both Rúmil andRŷn asked at the same time.

"Best let him rest a few days. I will keep you informed of his progress and will let you know when he awakens," Meril answered. "There is nothing more either of you can do here. Go home and rest. I will notify you of any change in his condition. And Rúmil, I have sent a message to Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel, and Marchwarden Haldir and three galadhrim have been sent to the border to relieve Fael." She smiled at both Rúmil and Rŷn. "Keep our elf in your prayers. Perhaps we will find out more when he regains consciousness."

Rúmil pushed his head back once more under the cascading water of the falls. He had scrubbed his body till it was almost raw, but he still felt the blood of the wounded elf on his skin, still felt the miniscule weight of the slight body in his arms. In his mind, he heard once again the whimper of pain that had escaped those pale lips. "By the valar, who could treat an elf so unjustly?" he thought. He stepped from the ledge in front of the falls and clambered from rock to rock until he reached the riverbank then stood for a moment, letting the water run slowly from his skin. The image of the elf again played before his eyes. What could he possibly have done to undergo such rough treatment? Who in his right mind could inflict such damage on anyone? It was beyond Rúmil's capability of understanding. If at all within his power, he would make sure no harm would come to the elf again.

Once he had dried his wet hair and body, he dressed and started walking towards home. The events of the morning had pushed his weariness away, but now it returned full force, and it was with heavy steps that he climbed the ladder to his talan. After putting away his weapons, and removing his boots and cloak, he sank tiredly into a chair and rested his head against the wooden dining table. A hand gently touched his shoulder as his older brother, Haldir, placed a cup of steaming tea in front of him.

"Aye, brother, I heard of your deed this day," Haldir spoke softly into his ear, as he wrapped his arms about his youngest brother. Tears brimmed in Rúmil's eyes and flowed down his cheeks as he leant back against the comfort of Haldir's chest.

"He was hurt so badly, Hal," Rúmil whispered. "I do not think there was an inch of his body that was left untouched. Meril said he had been abused for some time. Haldir, I could feel his pain, I still feel it now."

"Shush, Rúmil, he is safe." Haldir replied as he nuzzled Rúmil's hair. "Drink the tea and I will help you to bed. I will even lay with you if you like."

Rúmil looked up lovingly into the warm hazel eyes of his brother. "Aye, Haldir, I would like that. I know I will see his face many times over in my sleep."

Haldir nodded, thinking of the many nights he had held Rúmil in his arms while his youngest brother battled nightmares. So young, so innocent, he thought, looking down at the upturned face.

Haldir, Orophin and Rúmil were orphans. They were but elflings when their parents were brutally attacked and killed by orcs. Orophin, the eldest of the three locked his sorrow inside, as did Haldir. But Rúmil suffered in his sleep, reliving the loss over and over in troubled dreams. Rúmil, who would hunt orcs with blood lust and hatred in his eyes, but would cry over a dragonfly with a broken wing; Rúmil, who was by nature gentle and loving. "Yes, Rúmil," Haldir thought, "would take the injured elf's pain to heart."

Seeing that his brother had finished his tea, Haldir removed the empty cup from the table and grasping Rúmil by the wrist, led him into his bedroom. Rúmil had just enough strength left to change into a nightshirt before he fell in an exhausted heap on the bed. Haldir tucked the covers around his sibling, then rounded the bed and crawled in on the other side. Moving up against his brother, he clasped him in his arms and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Good night, pen-neth, may your sleep be peaceful." he whispered. Soon they were both fast asleep.

Haldir woke to Rúmil's cries. Holding his brother close, he whispered words of comfort in his ear. Hurried footsteps sounded outside the door and soon other arms sought Rúmil as Orophin slid under the sheets, his eyes full of concern. Sweat beaded on Rúmil's brow and dampened the back of his nightshirt as his body rolled restlessly from side to side. Orophin pushed a moist strand of silver hair away from Rúmil's face and wiped at the tears leaving wet trails down pale cheeks.

"It happens again," Orophin spoke softly to Haldir.

"Yes, it does, but I expected it tonight," said Haldir.

He quickly filled Orophin in on the events of the afternoon. Pain shot through Orophin's eyes as he thought about the elf, then remembered his parent's broken and battered bodies. Looking at Haldir, he saw the same angst mirrored in his brother's face. Reaching out a hand, he traced his fingers down Haldir's sculpted cheek, while with his other he caressed his youngest brother.

Orophin had become father and mother to them both after their parents died, and he held Rúmil and Haldir dearly in his heart. Time passed as the two elder brothers tenderly watched over their youngest. "I believe the worst is over," Haldir whispered, as Rúmil's breathing steadied to a regular rhythm and his hoarse cries quieted down to a few whimpers. When the rays of the morning sun broke through the curtains, its warm light fell on a tangle of silver-blond locks and entwined limbs, as all three brothers slumbered curled in each other's arms.

-_Three days later - The Healing House_

A hand touched his face and he screamed. The pain, would it never go away? He hated their hands on his body, the stench of their breath, and the ugly sounds of their voices. In a few moments, he knew it would begin again. It was always worse in the morning, just after he awakened. The hand touched his face again and he cringed. "Please", he whispered hoarsely through cracked lips, "I can tell you nothing." He stiffened for the blow he knew would come next.

"You are safe, sweet one," a voice whispered. "No one will harm you anymore, I promise."

A moan of despair left his lips, he was dreaming again. Never would he leave this place, never would he be free from the endless torture. A hand slipped behind his head, lifting it up slightly, and something was pressed against his lips.

"Drink this, it will help ease your pain and let you sleep. It is an herbal tea and it is just warm, so you will not burn your mouth." said the voice.

The elf tightened his lips and shook his head. "I will not drink your poison," he said through clenched teeth. "Do to me what you will, I will not tell you what you desire to know!" At this point his voice broke in a strangled sob and he turned his head away to hide his tears.

"Ah, sweet one, but you are safe in Lothlórien. I am a healer and am not going to harm you. Believe me, for I would not lie to you. If you open your eyes you can see I tell the truth."

The elf turned his head in the direction of the voice and with much effort, opened his eyes. What he saw took his breath away. Soft blue eyes full of concern gazed at him from a face framed with shining silver hair, soft blue Elven eyes.

"I know not how you create this vision", he whispered hoarsely, "but I will not give in to you."

"I am not a vision, sweet one. My name is Meril, and I am a healer. One of our guards found you unconscious on the road three days ago. You have been under my care since then, and I have been waiting patiently for you to awaken. You are clean; your wounds are bandaged; now I wish to relieve some of your pain. This is a sleeping draught that contains analgesic herbs. You need to sleep so your body can heal."

Oh, how he wished to believe in this vision, but he knew he could never escape his tormentors. Countless times he had wracked his brain seeking a way of escape, but could find none. Maybe it was a sleeping potion; they had forced one down his lips before, making him sleep so his body could heal enough that the next day's torture would not kill him.

"Look around you my friend; you are in the Golden Woods. Can you not feel their magic? Talk to the trees, they will tell you what I say is true. The trees never lie."

The elf looked into the soft blue eyes again, wanting so much to believe that he was safe. "Give me your potion then, if just to let me sleep one night without pain," he gasped.

Meril held the cup to his lips and he drank. Soon his eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep.

TBC


	3. A Change of Assignment

**Mírdan**

**Chapter 3: A Change of Assignment**

Fael pinned him to the ground and laughed in his face. "If I was an orc, I would eat you," he grinned, rolling aside to let Rúmil up. Both looked around to see how the others fared. Orophin hadRŷn pinned and Haldir was sitting atop his partner. Fael reached up and punched Rúmil's shoulder. "He is still on your mind, is he not, Rúmil? That is the first I have bested you in wrestling in a long time. Has there been any word?"

"Meril sent a message yesterday saying he had awakened for a few moments, but that he was still in a state of shock. She is keeping him drugged so his body will heal." Rúmil informed his comrade.

"Keep me posted," Fael replied, his face a mask of concern. "I saw his condition. It must have taken the last of his strength to make it here."

Rúmil looked up into his friend's worried eyes. "We will find out what happened and whoever put him in that condition will pay."

Fael reached out and gripped Rúmil's arm. "Count me in on that, friend,Rŷn too."

"Aye," Rúmil replied, I will."

"Count me in on what?" asked a friendly voice from behind Fael.

Fael turned and grabbedRŷn then stared into his eyes. Without warning he stuck out his tongue and licked Rŷn's nose. Before the astonished elf could respond, Fael pulled a lock of Rŷn's hair and took off running. "Ask Rúmil," he shouted over his shoulder.

"See you later, Rúmil, I am not going to let him get way with that," laughedRŷn as he took off after Fael.

Rúmil was just about to chase after the other two when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Put your gear away Rúmil and meet me at the house. We need to talk." It was not his brother speaking, it was his captain and it was a command.

Haldir was setting the table and Orophin was ladling stew into bowls when Rúmil walked through the door. "What was it you wished to speak with me about?" Rúmil asked Haldir, as he looked for goblets to complete the place settings.

"It can wait until we sit down," Haldir said as he poured dark red wine into the glasses.

"You may be seated now," Orophin said with a smile as he served each of his brothers a bowl of the stew, then sat down at the table with his own.

The three raised their voice in song, thanking the Valar for the bounty with which they were blessed this night. When the last note died, Orophin smiled and looked at his younger brothers.

"I am glad to be home", he said. "I missed you both."

He picked up his wineglass and raised it in a toast. "To my brothers…my family…may we be together always." His eyes were moist as his brothers raised their glasses in response.

"We missed you too, elder brother," both Haldir and Rúmil said at the same time.

It was a poignant moment that Rúmil broke when his goblet accidentally slipped from his fingers. He managed to catch it with his other hand, but not before some of the dark red liquid fell to the table seeping between the cracks in the wood, forming a puddle under his bowl. More of the wine splattered onto the front of his tunic soaking into the thin fabric. Haldir rolled his eyes, grabbed a cloth and began to clean the mess on the table while Rúmil grabbed another, daubing at his soiled clothes. Orophin stared at Rúmil as his younger brother dropped his eyes in response. "It slipped, he said apologetically."

Haldir took the wine soaked cloth from Rúmil and placed it in the dishpan next to the one he had used. He picked up the wine bottle and refilled his brother's glass, a neutral expression in his dark blue eyes. Rúmil glanced up once then looked down at his lap. "It was an accident; it just slipped out of my hand. I..."

"Do not worry about it, Rúmil," Orophin said with a quick glance at Haldir. "It happens. You saved the glass, do not make a fuss over it." Rúmil looked at Haldir, but his middle brother remained quiet. "Ai, Haldir, it is not like I did it on purpose." Rúmil raised his eyebrows as he waited for a response. Haldir just shook his head and took a sip of wine.

Rúmil was hungry but had only managed to eat three bites when Haldir voiced what was originally on his mind. "You woke Orophin and me with another nightmare last night."

"I am s-sorry," Rúmil stammered, I..."

"I am not faulting you for what you do in your sleep," Haldir said gently, looking at his brother who was once again staring at his bowl. Rúmil glanced up once he realized that Haldir was not upset.

"I am still sorry I woke you", Rúmil replied, looking at both his brothers.

"We care about you, pen-neth," Orophin said and Haldir nodded.

Rúmil smiled at both and took another bite of stew.

"When did you acquire a new knife?" Haldir asked a few moments later.

Rúmil's face turned slightly pink and he looked back down at his bowl. "It is not mine, it is Fael's," he mumbled, silently vowing to give Fael a punch the next time he saw him.

"Yours is on your dresser," Haldir said dryly. "So you were not properly equipped yesterday on patrol, were you?"

"No," Rúmil mumbled even softer than before. Haldir made no reply and the brothers ate in silence for a while longer.

"When is the last time Fael bested you at wrestling?" Haldir spoke up again.

"I did not think you had noticed," Rúmil said with a sigh, "What are you driving at, Haldir?"

"I notice everything, Rúmil. That is the point. That is my job! You have almost fallen asleep on duty, neglected your equipment, been only half-attentive at practice, and I should not have to point all this out to you, brother. You know what is expected of you, of every guardian. Mistakes kill…if not you…then others. You cannot tell me you did not have an inkling of what I was going to talk to you about tonight?" Haldir had raised his voice in exasperation.

"It will not happen again," Rúmil said, I..."

"No, it will not," snapped Haldir, "For as of now you are off duty."

"What!" cried Rúmil, jumping up from the table, his eyes wide and full of anger.

"Sit down!" Haldir commanded, and Rúmil dropped back into his chair, fuming. Haldir softened his voice. "Orophin is taking your shift for a while, and I am putting you on a special assignment.

"Ha! You mean like stable lad or storage clerk?" Rúmil had crossed his arms over his chest and although his remarks were directed at Haldir, he included Orophin in his angry stare.

"No," said Haldir.

"Well, speak up brother, what is my new assignment?

"When you calm down, I will tell you," said Haldir. "Eat your stew before it gets cold."

Rúmil could not believe his ears. In his mind, he mimicked Haldir's words, "_Eat your stew before it gets cold." _Haldir could be infuriating. He was mad at both of his brothers, they had conspired against him. He had an exemplary record with the patrol, and for a few minor mistakes, Haldir was relieving him of duty? And Orophin was going along with it? It just was not fair! Rúmil pushed the bowl of stew away from him.

"I am not hungry," he stated. A big wet spot appeared on the table where he had just pushed away his bowl. Another soon followed. "I do not believe it, I am crying," Rúmil thought as he did his best to will the tears to stop. "What is wrong with me?" Nothing helped, and to further his embarrassment, a sob escaped his lips.

Haldir and Orophin exchanged glances. "I am going for a walk," Haldir said, pushing his chair away from the table and standing up.

A few seconds later, the door closed, leaving Rúmil and Orophin alone. Neither spoke. The silence was only broken by an occasional sob that still escaped from Rúmil. Orophin began to clear the dishes from the table, but left Rúmil's bowl of unfinished stew. "This is not a punishment, you know," Orophin said softly. "Haldir is worried about you. I am worried about you."

"I am not an elfling anymore. When are you both going to realize that?" Rúmil asked. "I know how to take care of myself."

Orophin walked over and sat in the chair next to Rúmil. "He gave you an order, Rúmil; you should have taken it without question. Instead you threw a tantrum like an elfling. Can you blame him for becoming upset and walking out?"

"It is not fair," Rúmil replied, "he takes advantage because I am his brother."

"No, Rúmil, he does not. He would not be in the position he is today if he did. You know that."

Rúmil did not speak, but his breath soon became more even and he began to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Straightening up in his chair, he reached over and grabbed the bowl of stew. He wolfed down its contents, then turned and giving Orophin a tearful smile, asked if there was any more left. Orophin got up and refilled his bowl then sat down again and watched Rúmil eat.

"I will go find him when I finish and apologize," Rúmil said sheepishly. "I am sorry I upset both of you. I have not been myself this week. I cannot stop thinking about the elf. Haldir is right, it is affecting my actions, but Orophin, you did not see what they did to him."

"I know how you feel, young one, Haldir knows also. That is part of the reason he is taking you off duty."

"I understand," Rúmil replied. "I feel guilty that you have to take my place, I know you wished a few days to adjust to being home."

Orophin smiled. "Do not worry about it. I was planning to ask Haldir to put me back on patrol anyway. Lord Glorfindel let me have a week off before leaving so I have had more than enough rest, and I have nothing to do in the mornings except wait for afternoon practice. Fael andRŷn are old friends, and I will feel comfortable working with them.

Rúmil smiled and hugged his older brother. "I really missed you, Orophin. When I heard about your injury, I..."

"You do not have to say anything, Rúmil. If I had been in true danger the Lord and Lady would have let you and Haldir come to Imladris. I am back, and I am fine, and as much as I enjoyed my friendship with Glorfindel, my place is here with you and Haldir."

Orophin returned his brother's hug then laughed softly. "You think Haldir has a temper, do you know how I felt once I realized I had insulted the Balrog Slayer. I was in such a state at the time that I did not even realize to whom I was yelling. Not only did I insult a great warrior, but one of the lords of the House! By the Valar, Rúmil, Glorfindel knows swear words I never heard before. When he finished his tirade my face was so white Lord Elrond thought I had a relapse."

Rúmil laughed. "I wish I could have been a fly on the wall. I hope you know that everyone in Caras Galadhon knows about your tantrum. I am sorry, brother, but it was too good a tale to keep secret."

Orophin chuckled. "I figured as much. Glorfindel has a temper, but a finer warrior I do not know. I would trust him with my life. He is a lot like Haldir."

Rúmil sighed. "I am truly sorry I was angry at you and Haldir, Orophin."

"Apology accepted," Orophin grinned. "I assume you know where he is headed?"

"Yes," Rúmil replied. "I shall go talk to him and bring him back." He reached down and grasped his brother's arm. "Thanks," he whispered, then grabbed his cloak and left.

TBC


	4. Memories

**Mírdan**

**Chapter 4: Memories**

The path that Haldir had taken was a familiar one. Rúmil had walked it often, as had Orophin, even though to the eyes of others it was barely visible. But it was not the ground under his feet that was on Rúmil's mind, rather the love he felt for his brothers. Orophin and Haldir were the father he had never had the chance to know, the mother whose tender embrace he could not remember. The three were extremely close, some would say too close. Rúmil had seen many a narrowed eye when one would hug or kiss the other. Their love was strong and they were not afraid to show it. They had slept together since the day their parents were killed, up until Rúmil reached his majority. Even now, they would do so if one of the three were troubled, as the other night, when Rúmil fell prey to nightmare. Their relationship was of course, platonic, but that did not stop the gossip. Rúmil sighed.

Perhaps, if one or all of them had found love outside of family, they would not be subject to such speculation. Neither he nor his brothers were chaste by any means, but it was hard to maintain a relationship when most of their time was spent guarding the northern border.

Orophin — Rúmil smiled when he thought of the eldest in his family. Orophin was quiet and reserved, level-headed, sensible. It was Orophin who mediated the arguments that arose between Rúmil and Haldir. When Rúmil was younger, it was Orophin's arms that embraced him for the little hurts like skinned knees, slights from friends, or taunts from his middle brother. It was Orophin who shook his head over Rúmil and Haldir's mischievous pranks and who tried his best to keep the two out of serious trouble. Orophin was extremely slow to anger, but once his ire was raised, his temper was legendary. Rúmil knew, because he had often been on the end of it. Unfortunately for Orophin, Lord Glorfindel had also had a taste.

Haldir, on the other hand, was the complete opposite - stubborn, strong-willed, oft times volatile. He was extremely confident of his abilities, smart as a whip and deadly with a weapon. And his weapons were not only those that fit the hand, for he could defeat an opponent in a battle of words as well. His was serious and sometimes nasty, and his countenance was such that many were scared to approach him. But all looked upon him with respect, and it was his better qualities that had earned him the post of marchwarden. Underneath his stern exterior, he was kind and caring. He just did not show those traits on the surface or to those he did not know well.

When Rúmil entered the silent glade, Haldir was sitting on the ground with his chin on his knees. This was their special place, their sanctuary, a place of peace. The earthy ground was covered with a soft, spongy grass and under Ithil's light a shallow pool bordered with tiny yellow flowers cast a silvery glow back up to the sky. In a far corner, under the branches of a venerable Mallorn, sat the stone cairn laid in memory of their parents. Haldir was seated in front of it idly running a weed through his fingers. He looked up at Rúmil's approach but did not speak. Rúmil sat down next to him and placed an arm around his shoulder.

"I am sorry I upset you, Haldir. This has been a troubling week for me. I was derelict in my duty and you should not have had to take me off watch; I should have requested it of myself. It is just sometimes, I resent being the youngest and being told what to do. Your remark about the stew irked me. As to my outburst, I cannot keep my emotions under control these days. I am at a loss to say why."

"Rúmil," Haldir replied with a sigh, not looking up, "I am not upset with you. Orophin and I talked earlier. I should have taken you off duty the day you found the elf. It is just we are short-handed and after what happened to Orophin, I ..."

"I understand," Rúmil said softly. "Whatever you wish me to do; I promise I will not complain. I have already apologized to Orophin. He is waiting up for us."

Haldir turned and looked closely at his younger brother. "I am not trying to punish you pen-neth, I hope you understand that. I am worried about you. Your nightmares have started again and you are not getting enough sleep. You are also not eating well. I want you to help me with administrative duties for a while. We also need to find out more about the elf you rescued. Meril said we could speak with him tomorrow. He preys on your mind, and maybe finding out more about his misfortune will set you at ease.

"I was tougher on you tonight than I should have been. We will work things out, the three of us, you, me, and Orophin. When you are feeling better, you can go back to your normal duties. Besides, with the festival coming up I can really use your help. You will not be idle, I promise."

Rúmil moved behind Haldir and pulled his brother to him, wrapping his arms around his waist. Haldir laid his head back against Rúmil's chest and closed his eyes, seemingly lost in thought. After a moment though, he spoke. "I care a lot about you, Rúmil and it hurt me to see you cry. Sometimes, for all my skill in negotiation, I do not know what to say to you. Orophin is the one who always has the right words."

Rúmil tightened his arm around Haldir's waist. "I do not mean to be such a trial to you, Haldir. I look up to you; try my best every day to be more like you."

"You are embarrassing me, pen-neth," Haldir replied. "Study to be like Orophin, if you feel you must change yourself, for he is the wisest among us, but know, Rúmil, that I like you the way you are." Rúmil did not answer and the two sat for a long while, each lost in his own thoughts.

It was Haldir who broke the quiet. "You are so like Naneth," he whispered. "She cared about others as you do, always feeding strays and taking in strangers. Do not take those qualities lightly, Rúmil."

"Would that I had known her as you and Orophin, but I was too young," Rúmil whispered back, resting his chin on the top of Haldir's head. Again, they did not speak for some time.

A breeze rippled the surface of the pool causing the night flowers to nod their heads then it passed over the two who were seated on the grass, teasing the loose strands of Rúmil's hair, causing them to tickle his face. He shook his head to toss the hair back in place and at the movement, Haldir stirred. "It grows late; we should go." Haldir rose to his feet and offered Rúmil his hand. Rúmil took it and pulled himself up.

"I do wish to find out more about our mystery elf," Rúmil said as they walked together back towards the talan. "Meril thinks he will recover. That is good news. We must take care with our questions, for no telling what emotional scars he may be carrying. You will let me come with you when you speak with him, will you not, Haldir? Whoever could have treated him so badly?" Rúmil did not wait for Haldir to answer him. "I intend to find out. Fael and Rŷn wish to know also. They feel as responsible for him as I."

"We will work out the mystery," Haldir replied with a chuckle, amused at Rúmil's endless questions. He yawned. "As soon as we are home, I will make us each a cup of tea. Orophin has only recently returned and we should spend a bit of time with him."

Orophin was at the door when they reached the talan. He greeted them both with a hug. Haldir fixed the tea and the brothers drank and talked until it was time for bed. That night they again slept wrapped in each other's arms.

Breakfast found them in much better spirits, and while Orophin readied himself for his first day back on patrol, Haldir outlined Rúmil's schedule. He was to meet with the kitchen staff and obtain a list of supplies needed for the upcoming festival, then work out a duty roster for the next month. He would meet Haldir for lunch, after which they would walk to the healing house and talk to Meril.

Hopefully, their elf would be awake and they could find out who he was and what befell him. When the dishes from their morning meal were put away, each bid the other a good morning and left for their respective duty.

"You are back among the living, I see," Fael said to Orophin, his mouth spread in a wide grin as he led his horse out of the stable.

"Aye, I have returned," Orophin answered, "Captain Haldir wished me to keep an eye on two particular guardians."

"You do not, by any chance, mean us?" Rŷn said with a laugh as he threw his carry bags over the neck of his gelding.

"I do not see any others present," Orophin replied.

"Nor do I,"Rŷn said with a groan. "Do you realize, Orophin that Fael and I go to relieve our relief? This is our second journey to the border in the space of a week."

"Surely, you did not expect a reprieve from duty because you came to the aid of a fellow elf? Your relief just returned from their monthly stint and you wish them to serve double shift so you can take a holiday?" Orophin raised his eyebrows at Rŷn's temerity. "Besides, it was not Haldir that sent the relief, it was Meril. Haldir would only have sent two guardians. He would have seen no reason for Fael to return."

"It was a joke, Orophin, do not take everything I say so seriously."Rŷn rolled his eyes. "I have been around long enough to know procedure. What puzzles me is why you join us instead of Rúmil? Not that I dislike your company, mind you, but is Rúmil all right?

"His nightmares have returned and his attention strays. Haldir has taken him off the roster for a while. I tell you this because you are his friends. Let us keep his condition between ourselves." Orophin's stated his request in a quiet voice, but both Fael andRŷn knew he was speaking not only for himself, but also for Haldir. They each nodded their head in agreement.

Orophin waited for his comrades to mount, then directed his horse toward the road out of the city, Rŷn and Fael following single file behind him. Orophin would not see his brothers for a while. He hoped Rúmil would fare better when he returned.

Rúmil spend most of the morning working with the head cook on a supply list for the festival. He was not fond of paperwork, but had promised Haldir no complaints. He and the cook made progress until the elf had to stop to start preparations for lunch. Rúmil gathered up his sheaf of parchment and headed for Haldir's office. Sitting at a small desk Haldir had temporarily set up for him, Rúmil began work on the monthly roster. At least, this task was one with which he was familiar. He worked steadily for a while, then put down his quill and sighed, staring off into space.

There was a time when Rúmil had been jealous of Haldir, resenting his brother's promotion to marchwarden. But once he realized the type of work involved, especially the amount of paperwork, Rúmil had changed his tune. Not to mention, Haldir sometimes left the realm and mucked about with other races. His brother had a ken for learning languages and Lord Celeborn used that to his advantage, sending Haldir out as spy to some of the nearby human settlements. Other times, he would send Haldir in his place as emissary to the military councils which alternated between Lothlórien and Imladris. Relations with Thranduil's realm were touchy and Haldir had only been there once. As far as Haldir was concerned, once was enough. Rúmil laughed to himself as he remembered Haldir's description of his reception in Mirkwood.

A guardian poked his head in the door looking for the captain. After telling the galadhel Haldir was not in, Rúmil quit his daydreaming and went back to work. It would not do to have Haldir find him idle, or worse, have another tell Haldir that Rúmil sat twiddling his thumbs. It was almost time for lunch when he put his parchment aside. He had finished the duty roster and from the notes he had taken while meeting with the cook, prepared a tentative supply list for the festival. He would need Haldir's approval on both, and for the festival list, he would also need the approval of Lady Galadriel's chief advisor. He did not look forward to meeting with that elf, for he was the counterpart of Lord Erestor of Imladris, a stern and sombre personage that had no sense of humour. Rúmil rose from his chair and stretched then left the office and made his way to the barracks.

Rúmil arrived early to the dining hall and so was first in line. He took his tray, found a seat at one of the tables, and waited for Haldir. The meal served this day smelt delicious, but Rúmil was not hungry. He took an apple from his tray, polished it on his sleeve until it shone then set it back in its place. The rest of his food he picked at with his fork, taking only a few bites. Around him, the tables filled, but still no Haldir. Rúmil frowned, his brother was running late.

TBC


	5. Mirdans Story

**Mírdan**

**Chapter 5: Mírdan's Story**

It was dark when he awakened. He was dying of thirst, his tongue thick and pasty in his mouth, his throat dry. He hoped there would be water in the battered bowl that served as his drinking cup, for sometimes they did not remember to fill it. Or, perhaps, they forgot on purpose. It would hurt to move, but he did not know how much longer he could go without something to cool his parched throat. He opened his eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the darkness.

Something was not right. The room was not the same. He stilled his breathing as he felt another's presence. It took all his strength to remain calm as he heard a door open and someone else walk into the room. "Meril, how is he doing?" he heard a gentle voice ask. The female spoke his language, not the guttural Westron he had been used to hearing. Elves? Was he dreaming again? A hand touched his forehead and he could not help but flinch, a small gasp leaving his lips at the unexpected touch.

"Are you awake, sweet one?" another person asked, this one also female. "I am sure you are thirsty; let me give you a drink of water." He said nothing as a hand slipped under his head and a glass was pressed to his lips. He took a sip. The water felt so wonderful going down his throat that tears came to his eyes. He was allowed three more sips then the cup was taken away. He groaned.

"I cannot allow you to drink too much, for you would not be able to keep it down. Wait a few minutes and I will give you more."

Someone lit a candle and a soft light filled the room. He looked around slowly. Two elliths (elf maidens) stood by his side, one with a cup in her hand. The one with the cup spoke. "I am Meril, a healer. This is Emmelin, my assistant. I spoke with you once before, but I am not sure if you remember. You are in Lothlórien, in the city of Caras Galadhon. You are safe from harm, with your own kin."

A hand reached out from the coverlet and Meril grasped it in hers. Brown eyes moved from the face of one elleth to the other, brown eyes filled with pain and also wonder.

He was still afraid to trust his senses. The hand holding his was soft and warm. He rubbed his thumb across it gently. It was real; this was not a dream. He was in Lothlórien; he was safe. He ran his tongue across his dry lips. "Water, please," he whispered. He watched as the elleth again brought the cup to his lips and he closed his eyes in appreciation as the precious liquid flowed down his aching throat. "Thank you," he was able to say before sleep took him once more.

Light, he could sense it even though his eyes were closed. It was something he craved. Something he had been denied for too long. He had spent so much time in the dark room that he barely remembered how the rays of Anor felt upon his skin. They caressed his face like a warm blanket, like a lover's touch. He opened his eyes and blinked. The room he was in was flooded with light. It reflected off the walls, the floor, and the bed on which he lay. The bed - he was lying on a soft mattress with clean sheets, covered by a light green blanket. His eyes took in more - the carved wooden table with the silver pitcher wet from condensation - just to gaze at it made his mouth water. Wide windows with gauzy curtains that fluttered as a gentle breeze blew through the chamber, let in the blessed sunlight. A chair with a plush cushion stood empty beside the bed. Another chair stood next to it and seated upon it was a vision of loveliness, an elf maiden with pale face and shimmering hair; her eyes lost in reverie; her lips like the palest rose. He smiled. He was safe; he was protected; he was with friends. At this realization, he cried. All the pent up emotions and fear he had held inside for so long burst forth. His shoulders shook as gasping sobs issued from his cracked lips. He had dreamt of this, longed for this, prayed for it, but never had he believed his prayers would be answered. He was free, and he was alive!

Emmelin awakened at the sound. Her patient was in tears. She quickly rose and walked to the side of the bed, placing her hand upon his shoulder. Embarrassed, he turned on his side, facing in the opposite direction. Emmelin patted his shoulder. With her other hand, she stroked his long braid, which lay across his pillow. "Do not be ashamed of your tears. I have seen many in this place. You need to unburden yourself. Tears have healing powers. They will cleanse your soul and ease your pain." She sat beside him until his tears subsided. He turned back toward her, his brown eyes searching her face. "Am I truly here?"

"Yes, my friend, you are. No one will hurt you again; I promise."

Emmelin smiled and brushed her hand across his tear-streaked cheek. "Would you tell me your name?" she asked.

"Mírdan", he whispered, "I am called Mírdan."

"Welcome to Lothlórien, Mírdan. I am Emmelin, assistant to the healer Meril. We have been taking turns keeping your watch. If you do not mind, I wish to tell her you are awake. I will only be gone a second. If you prefer, I will stay."

Mírdan shook his head. "I remember you both; I thought you were of my dreams. If you do not mind, may I have a drink of water before you leave?"

"You have only to ask." Emmelin replied, pouring water from the silver pitcher into a cup and holding it so Mírdan could drink. She opened a drawer from the chest by the bed and removed a small bell. "I will put this on the bed. If you need anything while I am gone, ring the bell." She smiled. "I shall not be long." And with that, she walked gracefully from the room.

Haldir carried his tray over to the table and sat down next to Rúmil. "Sorry I am late. Did you have any problems this morning?" he asked.

"No," Rúmil replied, "I have a tentative list on food supplies and the duty roster is finished. It is on your desk. What about the elf, might we speak with him today?"

Haldir took a bite of his apple. Rúmil had to wait until he chewed and swallow it before receiving an answer to his question. "I spoke with Meril before coming here." Haldir replied. "The elf has awakened; his name is Mírdan. That is all I know at the moment. Meril says we may speak with him, but only for a short period. He is weak and she does not wish for us to tire him. She is continuing the medication for pain, but has stopped the sleeping draught, at least during the day, so he should be alert. We will take it slowly, for he has been through much trauma. If he becomes upset, we will have to leave. Meril did tell him that we plan to speak with him."

"I am glad he is going to recover," Rúmil said as he pushed his food around on his plate. "When I first saw him I did not think he had much chance. I also was not sure whether he had been... abused in other ways." Rúmil glanced sideways at Haldir.

"He was not touched sexually, if that is what you mean, Rúmil. At least there is not any sign that he has been recently." Haldir's face was grim. This was not something that was easily discussed among elves. The thought that anyone would take another against their will was almost inconceivable. But Haldir knew that the darkness that had touched the world brought madness to some. Humans, orcs, and even worse were known to lust after the Firstborn. Elves taken unwillingly usually faded. It was not a pretty thought. This was a time of unrest. The days of peace were over.

Haldir looked at his brother's plate and sighed. "If that is all you are going to eat brother, we may as well go. At least put an apple in your pocket in case your appetite returns. I have seen birds eat more than you have today!" Rúmil scowled, but did as Haldir asked before they left the dining hall for the House of Healing.

Mírdan licked his lips nervously as two silver-haired males entered the room. Both were dressed in the black and grey colours of the Lórien guard. The taller of the two looked familiar; however his stern visage sent a shiver down Mírdan's spine. The other guardian's features were softer, more delicate, but even so he could tell the two were related. Both, to his eyes were striking. There was something that marked all the Elves of Lórien. They had a glow, a strong inner light. He lowered his eyes as he did not wish to stare then raised them when the taller of the two spoke.

"I am Haldir, Marchwarden of the Lothlórien guard. This is my brother, Rúmil. I understand you are called Mírdan."

"Mae Govannen (Well met), Marchwarden Haldir, Rúmi," the elf in the bed answered. "Yes, that is the name I go by." He was silent for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. "Meril tells me that I owe my life to Rúmil." Mírdan looked at the shorter elf. "Thank you, Rúmil, you have my eternal gratitude; I am in your debt."

Rúmil could not help but stare at Mírdan. Clean from dirt and free from the grimace of pain, the elf was one of the most beautiful he had seen. His skin was pale, but flawless, except for the bruising. His face had the soft outlines of youth, sharpened only by the bones of his cheeks, which stood out in high relief. But he did not have the harsh look of many with this trait.

Light brown hair streaked with gold was drawn back tightly from a broad forehead and bound into a singe braid. But it was Mírdan's eyes that held Rúmil the most. Soft, brown, overlarge, fringed with long, dark lashes, they seemed to draw him into their depths. Rúmil almost did not feel the jab in his side, Haldir's subtle way of letting him know it was past time to give a response to the compliment Mírdan had paid him.

"My pardon, I do not know what came over me." Rúmil replied. "You owe me nothing, Mírdan. Anyone would have done the same as I under the circumstances. I thank the Valar that you have recovered quickly and I am sorry that you had to undergo such grievous and cruel treatment. On my oath as a guardian of these woods, I swear that no harm will come to you in Lothlórien." With these words, Rúmil broke his gaze from the elf and focused his eyes on the planked floor beneath his feet.

"Do you feel well enough to answer a few questions?" Haldir asked Mírdan in a gentle voice. "You have been through much trauma, but it is my responsibility to ensure the protection of this realm, and I must know of any and all dangers that threaten."

At a nod from Mírdan, Haldir continued.

"Where from do you hail, and what caused you to suffer such treatment?" the marchwarden asked. "I wish to hear your story, but if at any moment the telling of it causes pain, you may stop."

Mírdan nodded again. "I have heard of you, Haldir o Lórien. Aye, perhaps I have even seen you once from afar."

Haldir's eyes widened in surprise.

"Fear not, Captain, for I have heard that you are just and fair and are a formidable warrior."

Haldir remained silent, but raised one of his eyebrows as if questioning the other's statement.

"Surely, someone in your position is not surprised that you have such a reputation?" Mírdan laughed softly. "I will tell you my tale, at least that part which I remember. It would, however, make me feel more comfortable if you would both be seated. There are chairs on the other side of the bed."

Rúmil moved the chairs and seated himself next to Haldir. They both waited patiently for Mírdan to begin.

"Where I am from has no bearing, all you need know is that at the turn of the season I was bound for Imladris after spending time in Dale and Lake-Town. I am a metal-smith, a jeweller, and this route was one I often travelled, seeking those precious metals and gems that dwarves delve from the deep places underground. My bartering that trip being successful, I had arranged for transport of my goods at a later date, knowing full well that to try to carry such treasure on my person would be asking for trouble."

"Surely you did not plan to travel that distance alone?" Haldir interrupted, his eyebrows raised in astonishment.

"My build may be slight, but I am fair with sword and bow, and many times I have made the trip without mishap. I had no reason to think this time would be different. Call me foolish if you wish, but I can be stealthy and resourceful when the need arises. But, to continue with my tale, I had been travelling the Old Forest Road and had made good progress, although I was not in any particular hurry. The dangers of Mirkwood had been passed successfully, you know to what I refer-spiders-and I had crossed the Anduin that morning, hoping to reach the mountain pass by dusk. I planned to camp there, as I am always uneasy in open spaces.

"At sun's set, I had reached my goal and found a cave that would offer protection for the night. Since the weather was fair, I let my horse graze free. Dinner was jerky and a bit of bread, so I did not bother with a fire, just placed my bedroll a ways back from the mouth of the cave. I settled myself beneath my blankets and was asleep in a matter of minutes.

"It must have been approximately three hours later that I was awakened by faint noises, the sound of shod hooves, the jingle of metal, men's voices. To my ears, it seemed a fair sized group, and I did not care for them to know of my existence, much less the fact that I was alone. I did not worry, for they were not close. There was plenty of time for me to leave the area. It did not take me long to gather my possessions and mount my horse and I was soon moving silently down the trail. Knowing there were places not far ahead where I would be able leave the path and move deep enough into the surrounding terrain to find a hiding place for my horse, I had no fear.

"My plans were to spend the rest of the night in a tree. Men would not be able to spot an elf within the foliage. As I said before, I was not worried, only irritated that my sleep had been interrupted. The unforeseen delay meant I would be off to a later start the next morning than I intended. Those were my last clear thoughts as suddenly there was an arm around my neck and a wickedly curved blade pressed against my throat. I had not heard a sound. No man could have snuck up on me like that."

"Why does one of my kin seek me harm?" I questioned my attacker.

"'Quiet!' the wielder of the knife replied in a voice of pure malice. 'Turn your horse around and head back the way you came; do not move a muscle or I will slit your throat from ear to ear.' A dread feeling began to creep into my stomach.

"There are men back down the trail," I said, "They may not take to us kindly."

"'Maybe not to you, pretty one, but they will laud me when they see the lovely prize that I bring them.' And with that, my unwanted companion threw back his head and laughed. Not a cruel laugh, the tones that left his lips were like the golden notes of a flute, and they floated on the air like the soft puffs of a dandelion. I knew I was in trouble then, and the blood ran chill in my veins.

"Five of the men dismounted and walked up to my horse the minute we came into view. It was not until they had pulled me from my mount and bound my wrists and ankles that I was able to get a good look at my attacker. He was one of the Firstborn, for his skin was fair, and his long hair silky and fine. I watched as he walked up to what appeared to be the leader of the group. They talked for a few moments, the elf gesturing gracefully with his long, slender fingers. Their words were too soft for me to hear, and when their lips stopped moving, the elf pressed his to the man's in a deep kiss. He broke away slowly, and turned to face me, his eyes raking my body from head to toe. He ran his tongue across his lips slowly, gave me an evil smile, and walked away. Before I could say what was on my mind, a cloth was pressed against my mouth and nose, and I sank into blackness."

At this, Mírdan's voice trembled, and he looked down at his hands. "Could you give me a few moments?" he asked. Haldir nodded and then walked to the other side of the bed where he grasped the handle of the silver pitcher and poured water into the cup that sat beside it. Placing the full cup in the hands of the trembling elf, he helped him guide it to his lips.

"Take small sips and try to relax. If you wish to stop, we will understand."

Mírdan looked up with glazed eyes. "I w-want to continue, he said, it is just I find it hard to do so." He raised pleading eyes to Haldir's face. "I am not soft; I have undergone much hardship in my life. I am not the weakling you see lying here, I want you to know that," he said softly. "But the next part of my tale i-is hard for me to tell."

Haldir flinched as one of Mírdan's hands lightly touched his upper arm, only to fall away quickly as the elf saw the cold expression in the marchwarden's eyes.

Haldir stepped back from the bed. "I think we should continue our talk at another time. You need rest. I will send Meril to check on you. Come, Rúmil, we have other business to which we must attend."

Rúmil rose slowly from his chair. He had seen the emotion on Mírdan's face as he told his story. The pain and despair that flitted across the elf's brown eyes made Rúmil long to open his arms and embrace the slender patient. He wished to comfort him, to promise him he would keep him safe. This was his elf. He was the one who had found and rescued him. Rúmil opened his mouth intending to offer soothing words, but to his surprise, he could not think of any thing to say. Feeling extremely guilty and perplexed, he offered a quick smile then turned and followed Haldir out the door.

All Mírdan could think about were their eyes. One pair the colour of the deep waters of the ocean, cold as those sunless depths, devoid of any emotion, eyes that looked through him without seeing. Even though the voice was kind, the eyes did not reflect that quality. They were like the chill of winter, cold, icy. He wondered at the thoughts behind those frosty orbs. The elf was stronger than any he had ever known, he could feel the strength pouring from the body. Mírdan needed that strength, craved it.

But then there were the other eyes, a softer blue, like that of a summer sky, eyes that sparkled and shimmered with golden highlights, like the shining metal that he worked with his hands. Eyes that radiated concern, eyes he could not meet, yet from which he could not tear himself away. Eyes that called to him, told him he was safe, aye, even loved. Never had he felt such a pull towards those of his kin.

They were brothers, so alike, and yet so different. Like Ithil and Anor, light and dark. One, full of light; shining as brightly as the day; spreading warmth and joy; chasing away the shadows, the other, dark, mysterious and cold. It was not easy to read that one. There was light there, but it came from deep within, only dimly reaching the surface. Mírdan thought long about his visitors. He knew they would be returning soon, and he would have to speak with them again. One elf, he knew, would persist until he drew the truth from him. The other would be gentler in his persuasion. But, of one thing he was certain, and it surprised him. He was strongly attracted to both.

TBC


End file.
